Circumstance
by Can'tStopImagining
Summary: Perhaps, they had always been close for a reason. Maybe it had been foreshadowed since the moment she was born. Key moments in Riff Raff and Magenta's lives. Some scenes of minor violence.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My take on a few key moments in Riff Raff and Magenta's lives. This is kinda a mash-up of movie and musical verse (although, it is probably worth mentioning that in my head these characters will always be as portrated by Kristian Lavercombe and Maria Coyne), but disregards Shock Treatment and ROTOQ. There isn't any real incest in this chapter, but there will be in the next part… this is my first Rocky story so please be kind :) One of my personal pet hates with this fandom is when people write Transsexual as if it is the same as Earth, so I've included quite a few "alien" things (or tried to) which are basically just things with slightly different (sometimes more literal) names. I hope it's fairly obvious what those things are supposed to be.

i.

They had always been different. They shared a room from the moment she was born, and although he tried to act like he hated the invasion on his privacy (he was seven when she was born), it was clear to anyone that knew him that he adored his baby sister. They had developed a bond from day one, one that not even their parents understood. He was quite happy sitting in their room, at his desk, with a startube and a pile of tablets stolen from his father's library, whilst the very suggestion of reading outside of school made Magenta scrunch her tiny little nose up in disgust.

"Riff?" Magenta would ask, tilting her head to one side, and he would put down his glowing tablet and allow her to crawl into his lap.

"Yes, sister?"

"Why do you read all the time?"

He'd smile, ruffling her already pretty messy mop of red hair, and holding her close as he picked his reading material up again, "one day, when you aren't so small, you'll understand," he told her. It was a convincing answer to someone who was merely five, but as she grew up, she never did understand what he meant.

Some were supposed to be academics, and others weren't. Magenta was very much in the second category. Where Riff had completed his studies four whole moons early, Magenta struggled. She wasn't smart. She had a mature attitude and could certainly talk down the other children her age, but she wasn't smart, not like her brother was. By the time she was the age of ten, her parents had given up on wishing she were more like him, but that didn't stop her from identifying the look of disappointment on their grey faces every time she came home with another poor grade. She so looked up to her brother, longing to have even half the brains he had, but she just wasn't destined for it.

Perhaps, they had always been close for a reason. Maybe it had been foreshadowed since the moment she was born. Either way, when it happened, she was grateful for whatever security her brother could offer.

It had started out like any other day; she had spent the earlier hours (she later found out Earthlings referred to this as "morning") half-heartedly cleaning the house as per her mother's wishes, and then as soon as the lighter hours were over, she went off to school. When she returned, however, she immediately knew something was wrong, mostly because her brother was sitting in the main house, not away in his room.

"Mother and father are gone," he had told her in a slow, even voice. It was not unusual for him to speak slowly, or bluntly, but never to Magenta. They had both been born with a speech impediment, but she had always been of the opinion that she got the worse end of the deal, being unable to pronounce particular sounds. Still, that had never stopped her from speaking, unlike her brother, who rarely spoke to anyone aside from his sister.

Their parents were dead. Magenta had started to cry, and Riff had allowed her to climb up into his lap, even though she was way too big to do so now. The same stony expression remained on his face as he distractedly stroked her hair. As she was only ten, he would have to take on the job of her guardian. They had nobody else.

ii.

He watched his sister grow into a teenager, through tired, sad eyes. It was a lot of responsibility, for someone so young to take charge of another's life, let alone someone who he cared so deeply for, and he struggled. Every obstacle in her life, he blamed himself for. Perhaps if he'd taken more time to try and help her speech problems, or he'd spent more time tutoring her, she would've achieved more, had more friends. He'd worked hard at his studies. This had given them good standing now that they had to fend for themselves, because his knowledge of the sciences had made him very sought after for work, but their relationship was held together by a thread. She resented him, he could tell. He never knew what to say to her, and more often than not ended up snapping, shouting at her and immediately wishing he hadn't. She quickly grew tiresome of him and they drifted further and further apart.

Magenta, just like her fiery frizz of bright red hair suggested, grew up to be wild. Uncontrollable. It frustrated Riff because he had the kind of mind that enjoyed being able to control things. He liked formulae and equations and scientific experiments because they only had one possible outcome each time. His sister was too spontaneous, too unpredictable. He longed for the little girl who wanted nothing more than the security of her big brother's lap, who truly believed he could do anything, but she had been lost a long time ago, somewhere amongst all the house moving, and late nights alone. She'd been forced to grow up. Riff had gone to work, and Magenta had stayed behind, and it was almost as though one day he'd returned to find someone different in her place.

The final straw, however, was the night Riff was awoken by the pacifiers, returning his little sister – who appeared to have only got half dressed that evening - from a broken curfew.

The curfew had been set to prevent the younger generation of Transsexual from wandering the streets in the lighter, most dangerous hours, and Magenta especially had been ordered to stick to it, both by their parents, and later, Riff Raff. Of course, this was an open invitation for her to do the opposite. Breaking the curfew meant an automatic fine, which of course Riff couldn't afford to pay, and she'd stumbled to bed leaving him arguing with the two officers. Their front passage slammed closed, and she groaned as Riff arrived in her room, pushing her blankets off.

"What were you doing out?" his voice held its usual soft calmness, but when Magenta looked hazily up into his face, the anger in his eyes gave him away.

She tried to casually shrug him off, "nothing, Riff. Leave me alone, I need to sleep."

"You went out, looking like that, to do _nothing_," he repeated, poking a finger into her barely-covered chest for emphasis.

Sweeping the blanket off her bed, Magenta wrapped it solidly round her shoulders like a shawl, sobering a little at the irritation in her brother's voice. Her head was swimming. Could he not save his interrogation for the morning? Rolling her eyes, she looked away, and he grabbed her by the wrist to ensure her attention remained focussed on him, his pale, cold fingers digging into her flesh.

"You do not come of age for another three years. You are not to go out looking like some cheap-" he grit his teeth, muttering a profanity she had _certainly_ never heard him use until now, before continuing, "you are going to stay in this room. You will not leave for studies, for seeing your friends. You will not even answer the siren should it ring whilst I am not here."

"And if I need to use the _bathroom_ dear brother?" she snarled, sitting up straight to stare him down.

He growled, not only letting go of her, but tossing her hand back into her lap, "you do not leave this house. You hear me? You remain here, where I can keep an eye-"

"_You? _How are _you_ going to keep an eye on _anything_?! You're never here Riff! You're busy doing this important work that I am not allowed to hear of. I wonder if you ever even remember that you have a sister, much less want to spend time with her? I don't even remember the last time we ate together. Why should I listen to a word you tell me?! You wouldn't even _notice_ if I was dead. I should have been in that vessel with our parents. Would that have made you happy? Would it?!"

Her voice got louder and louder until he was forced to slam his hands over his ears to block her out, and finally he snapped, grabbing her roughly by the throat and slamming her against a wall. She stared at him in surprise, and all of a sudden started to panic, realising she couldn't breathe. She kicked at him, trying desperately to speak, but he was trapping her vocal cords, winding her. As quickly as he'd turned, he suddenly let go, and she slid down the wall, falling in a heap at the bottom of the cold stone.

"My dear sister," he whispered, kneeling beside her, "what have I done to you?"

Her eyes still wide with fright, she tried to scamper away from him, whimpering like a small animal. Riff stared at her with eyes swimming with tears, and then shook his head, wiping his face on the sleeve of his night shirt. He crawled to his feet, and nodded in her direction, trying to gather his thoughts, before turning, and walking back to his own room. They never spoke of it again, and Magenta learnt how to behave.

iii.

The prince was notorious for his inhumanity, his frivolous sexual antics (even on a planet like Transsexual where most things were not frowned upon, they had their limits), and – unfortunately for Riff Raff – his scientific experiments. It was around the time of Magenta's seventeenth birthday that he first approached their home. Or, rather, one of his minions approached, delivering a letter penned by Frank N Furter himself, requesting Riff's assistance.

"It's a great honour to be personally requested," the minion had sneered, watching Riff fold the letter neatly away into his pocket, before scurrying away.

It certainly had been an honour, but at the same time, the implications that came with serving someone like the prince were a lot to consider. He had remained quiet, deciding not to mention it to his sister because she would surely want him to take the position. She wouldn't understand what it entailed. Riff was not afraid for his own reputation, but for hers. Being associated with the royalty of their planet did not hold the prestige it did elsewhere. Frank N Furter was the product of corruption, his family only still on the throne because of the rest of the planet were too scared to overthrow them. Working for them would pay little more than working anywhere else, but, at that moment in time, Riff had nowhere else.

Reluctantly, he agreed.

For the first moon, it was bearable. Riff worked long hours for very little, his master insatiable no matter how hard he worked. He was worse in person than Riff could have imagined from stories, though the grotesque face that he had often seen painted in tablets was exactly as pictured. Riff was just one of several lab technicians the prince employed, but he was by far the best, and the one Frank concentrated his attentions on most often. Along with the technicians, he had several house maids – domestics, as they preferred to be known – and a butler who occasionally made an appearance in the lab, to deliver messages. Each of them had worked there for so long that the skin on their faces was taut, greying, and in a permanent frown. In silent anger, Riff watched the way his master – as Frank insisted he was to be known – cajoled his female employees into doing things they didn't want to, be that as innocent as sitting on his lap whilst he worked, to being led, miserably, to his bedroom quarters when he became restless. It was sickening, but they had to do as they were told or risk losing their jobs. One of the other technicians, when Frank was otherwise engaged, quietly told him that it wasn't just the women, and he ought to watch out if he didn't want to be next.

He never told Magenta anything about where he worked, and she never asked. They rarely spoke, ever since that one incident, and although he often saw a questioning look etched into her pretty, pale face, she never put her wondering into words, which he was grateful for.

A short while later – it felt a lot longer – Riff was working late in the lab, alone. Frank had insisted he required only his assistance that evening, and sent everybody else home, a fact which Riff was quite resentful of, especially as all that needed doing was some documentation which anybody could have done. He was scribbling away in silence when Frank appeared at the end of the desk.

"We are going on a mission, my dear Riff Raff!" he announced excitedly, his red painted lips curving into a hideous smile.

"A mission, master?" Riff had replied, his tone even. He didn't even bother looking up from his papers.

"Yes, one beyond the shores of Transsexual. We leave tomorrow. Don't bother packing, you shan't need anything."

Dropping his pencil, Riff looked up, narrowing his eyes, "tomorrow? I'm afraid I can't."

At this, Frank let out a short, clipped laugh. It echoed around the tiled laboratory, ringing in Riff Raff's ears. Carefully, the prince sat down at the end of the desk, dangling his long, stocking-clad legs over the side, and clicking his heels on the table leg.

"Oh? Why not?"

"I have much to do here, _master_," he explained, though his mind had immediately turned to Magenta. He could not leave his sister behind. He hoped the panic that was rushing through his veins was not evident of his face, as he picked his pencil up again, and continued to write.

"Very well," Frank said slowly, seeming to contemplate. He rested his head on his hand, tapping his chin with his index finger comically, "your sister..." at this, Riff's head jolted upward, "beautiful girl isn't she? Yes, I shall very much enjoy having her as my companion."

"Fine," Riff Raff growled, placing his pencil calmly into its holder, "I'll go with you."

"But surely you can't leave poor... what was her name again? Magnolia? Magda?"

"Magenta," he corrected, through gritted teeth.

"Ah yes, Magenta. We can't leave her alone without her big brother, can we? Perhaps she would feel quite at home in my quarters after all-"

Just the way Frank's mouth slurred her name made Riff's blood boil, bile rising in his throat. Something inside of him snapped and he reached for the prince, gathering the thin material of his tight blouse in his fists. A look of surprise barely registered on Frank's face.

"Lay one finger on her and I'll-"

Frank let out another short laugh, "you'll what? You're nothing but a pathetic little boy," he sneered, as Riff let go of him, "look, I'll make a deal with you. You'll both work for me – you as my lab assistant, your sister as a... _domestic_ – you'll do as I say and follow my orders."

"Why should I agree to that?! My sister, she's not yet of a working age and..."

Frank hushed him with a finger to his lips, rolling his eyes, "fine, fine, she won't work. I'll have her sent straight to my bedroom. Do ensure she's appropriately dressed won't you?"

And, with very little choice, Riff agreed to continuing his placement at the castle on it's journey. The only condition, which he had ensured Frank agree to before he even approached his sister, was that Magenta remain safe and unharmed. He was not to use her for anything besides housework. Frank had reluctantly agreed, and whilst most of his morals were undoubtedly tarnished, Riff had been assured that when he made a promise, he kept to it.


	2. Chapter 2

iv.

The castle was dank and musky and the stone walls shimmered with cob webs and trails of dirt no matter how hard Magenta scrubbed them, but once they reached Earth, they were actually sort of glad of these things. It reminded them of home. Unlike Transsexual, Earth's days began as early as five in the morning, and stretched for sometimes fourteen or fifteen hours. As soon as it was light – this only lasted a short while back home, and even then the light was not as intense or bright – Magenta awoke, unable to sleep one her room was drenched in even the faintest of light. She couldn't bear sunlight on her pale skin; it burnt like acid, spreading like forest fire, and she would spend the next hours following shadows around the castle, only cleaning the corners which were dark enough for her to be safe in.

One night, after she had followed this horrendous routine exactly twenty-three times, and her skin was beginning to actually peel, Riff Raff appeared in her room. Magenta, who was seated at the end of her bed, looking into a large, ornate mirror – one of the only luxuries Frank allowed her – brushing her thick, red hair, turned to find him hurrying in, arms laden with a stack of old wood.

"What is that for?" she asked, returning her gaze to her reflection.

"I'm boarding up the sun portals," Riff explained, moving over to the window, "my dear, beautiful sister, it hurts me to see you in pain."

The faintest ghost of a smile came over her lips. She didn't voice her gratitude, but continued to tend to her hair, attempting to tame the frizzy mess, all the while watching Riff get to work at the window.

"Riff," she suddenly said, putting her brush down.

"Yes?"

"I wish to look one last time," she breathed, and Riff knew exactly what she wanted. She liked to look out at the stars, imagining one of the twinkling bright lights was their home. He hadn't the heart to tell her that it was impossible to see their planet from here. It was one of the few things that brought her comfort; he couldn't take that away from her.

"You can use my room to look, anytime," he assured her, placing the board he was holding onto the bed and shifting so he knelt behind her. Her bright green eyes darted constantly across the sky, watching each of the stars in turn.

"I miss it, Riff," she sighed, turning to face him.

Her breath was warm on his face, and he was suddenly transported to a time when his little sister would look up at him with the same wide, inquisitive eyes, and ask him the questions of the universe. He didn't always have the answers, but he always tried. Anything for his little sister. She would curl up in the safety of his lap and he would talk until she was fast asleep. Sometimes he read from tablets, but most of the time, he just reeled off information. Names of stars and planets, and facts about Transsexual's moons. She didn't really care what he talked about; she just enjoyed the sound of his voice, lulling her off to sleep.

"Genta," he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper, the childhood nickname sounding foreign on his lips, "this isn't forever. We will return to our beloved home, I promise."

v.

She had almost grown to hate her elder brother back home, but here he was all she had. She stayed out of the prince's way and did only as she was told, but she was lonely and miserable, and - worst of all – homesick. Riff did his best to quench her pain, but nothing could quite shift it. Night time was the worst, ironically. She had always sought safety and comfort in darkness, but here it was her enemy. Most nights, she was unable to sleep. The bed sheets still felt stiff and foreign, despite her having slept in them for weeks now. Even with her windows boarded, she could hear the odd noises from outside her room, the sounds of cars passing through their remote town. It was worse, still, when Frank had a guest over, as he often did. He went through groupies faster than she could learn the names of them, and with his quarters on the floor above hers, his bed directly above her head, she caught the worst end of the deal.

That was what had driven her to quietly make her way down the hallway, to her brother's room. Magenta didn't entirely know what she was doing or where she was going, until she reached the unmarked door, and found herself rapping gently on the tired wood. It was a long while before the door opened, so much so that she almost turned back, deciding her brother must be asleep. But, eventually, it creaked open, and Riff stood on the other side, fully dressed, and blinking sleep out of his eyes.

"Yes M- Magenta," he said, startled. He moved to open the door wider, "come in?"

She was hesitant, but nodded, stepping inside his chambers and waiting whilst he silently closed the door. Much like her own room, his was dark, with make-shift curtains draped over the large window at the end, rather than boards. His bed was little more than a wooden box with a mattress that was worn and lumpy, and he had no other furnishings besides a shelf which contained several tablets, stacked neatly and alphabetically. His clothes – aside from a night shirt which was bundled in the middle of his bed – were piled on the floor, and consisted of two shabby suits and nothing more. Though Magenta's own room felt bare and unhomely, her brother's felt more like a storage cupboard. The only item that stuck out as being remotely personal was a browning photograph which he had stuck to the wall right beside his bed. It showed them as children, sitting in the gardens of their home, before their parents had died. Magenta didn't allow her eyes to linger on it for long, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes already. She blinked, turning her attention back to her brother.

"Sorry, I know it's late. I hope you weren't asleep..." she muttered, sitting down heavily on his bed, wincing as it groaned under her weight.

"No," he answered, with a tight lipped smile. She knew he was lying. He very rarely got the chance to sleep, with Frank working him hard in the lab at all hours of the day, and she instantly felt guilty for interrupting him. She wasn't even sure why she had done it. What comfort could she seek from the man who she had barely spoken to in the past five years?

"I couldn't sleep," she said, unhelpfully, kicking her legs nervously over the side of the bed.

"He has a young boy with him, tonight."

Magenta nodded. She sighed, leaning against the wall. For years, she had wrestled with Riff's constant need to treat her like a child, but since they had moved here, that's exactly how she felt. Like a silly little girl, making a nuisance of herself, throwing silly little girl tantrums. She couldn't help it; everything just seemed _so dire_.

"You can..." he paused, seeming to gather this thoughts, or perhaps muster up some courage, "sleep in here. If you like, I mean."

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" Magenta asked, smiling shyly at him. He no longer represented the 'big bad', the older brother who shouted and swore and kicked the wall when she wouldn't listen to him. He wasn't the same man who had grabbed her by the throat so hard that he'd left bruises for weeks. Here, he was the last reminder of a place she loved, of a feeling of security. Of a world beyond mops and dirty dishes and sing-songy commands which were followed by blood curdling screams and the sound of leather on stinging flesh. Here, he was her home.

vi.

The day it changed was like any other day, to begin with. Riff had spent the majority of his day in the lab, working on the prince's most recent project. He'd spent so long in there lately that even when he closed his eyes to sleep at night, he could see the pale pink tiled walls as if they were branded on his eyelids. He was rarely allowed time out to eat or drink – he and Magenta never dined with the prince, even when he had no other company – and this, paired with a lack of sleep, had caused him to get sloppy, and make mistakes. He was exhausted. Anyone else would have seen that and excused an odd muck up here and there, excused him to his quarters for some rest, but not Frank.

The whippings had started shortly after they arrived on Earth. Usually, the whip only caught his heels, or the backs of his legs. It stung for a while, but it never really bled. He could ignore it, pretend like it wasn't there. Next time, he'd work harder, concentrate harder. He'd made Frank agree to never ever using it on his sister. Whenever she made a mistake, _he _would take the punishment, he'd insisted. For the most part Magenta did as she was told, and it wasn't necessary. Which was fortunate, because he was sure she would kill him if she ever found out about the bargain he'd made.

Recently, however, Frank had changed. His temper was worse, now. He was impatient at the best of times, and if Riff didn't work fast enough, he would receive a whipping straight to his back, hard enough to tear through the thin material of his jacket and shirt, and rip at his flesh. He wasn't permitted to go and clean himself up, but to continue working until Frank decided he was allowed to go to bed, usually several hours after Magenta had retired to her room. By then, his clothes would be matted to his skin with dried blood, and he'd be in agony.

Magenta had taken to sleeping in his room maybe twice a week. The connection that they had felt as young children had returned, and he would often fall asleep curled around her, his face buried in her hair. She didn't sleep well, even then, constantly twitching and muttering. The first time, it had taken him by surprise and he hadn't known what to do. She'd begun to whimper, and it had made his heart ache in his chest, and, with some uncertainty, he'd turned her towards him and held her closer. She'd nestled into his chest, and he'd pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she'd calmed down. He felt dirty; guilty for finding joy in her pain, but it had brought them back together again, and something about holding her body close to his just felt so right. He couldn't help it.

He hid his own pain from her. He could fool himself into believing he wasn't being selfish if he did these things, take her whippings, ask for no comfort of his own from her. He was protecting her from Frank, he told himself, ignoring the part of him that recognised that he didn't want her in Frank's bed for only one reason: he wanted her in _his_.

That night, however, he'd still been in the midst of bandaging his back when she'd arrived at the door. His fingers panicked, unable to concentrate on the task, and when he didn't answer her knock, Magenta assumed he was already asleep, and let herself in. He didn't stand a chance at covering his wounds before she caught a glimpse of them. Magenta immediately rushed to his side, her long, thin fingers making easy work where his couldn't. She quietly cleaned and dressed the wounds, avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I hoped you wouldn't see that," he said, as she finished.

She remained silent, taking the left over bandages, and the bowl of water, and setting them away in the corner. She kept her back to him, and for a moment he thought she was going to leave.

"Does it hurt?" she finally asked, her voice small and broken.

"No," Riff lied. She turned to look at him, and their eyes met. It was as if they had a whole silent conversation, sitting in the dark, listening to rain patter on the roof.

Wordlessly, Magenta wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He sighed deeply, a sound she mistook for one of pain, and immediately lifted her head, whispering a soft "sorry". Then, all at once, her fingers were lightly dancing across his back, bare besides the bandages, and her lips hesitantly touched the flesh of his shoulder, brushing over a lesion that had already begun to heal. He made to gasp, but he was so afraid it would cause her to stop, he swallowed it, biting his lip, focussing solely on her mouth and her hands and how his skin trembled under her touch.

"Better?" her breath, so close to his neck, made his hairs stand up on end, a warmth spreading through his body as he barely managed to nod.

Magenta turned to look at him, a delicate smile on her lips, despite the sadness in her green eyes. He didn't dare to speak, frightened that he would ruin the moment. And he wanted it to last forever, to be permanently branded in his memory as the first time he realised he was in love with her, no matter how sadistic or perverted it made him.


	3. Chapter 3

vii.

Although _they_ were never permitted to leave the castle, occasionally Frank did. These were the best days, but also the worst. Best because it meant he wasn't there to torture them, run them off their feet with orders, or just generally ensure they were as miserable as possible. But, the worst, because they never knew when he was going to come back or, worse still, what mood he would be in when he did return, except that most often it was a bad one. If the dinner wasn't prepared as soon as he got back, and the rooms weren't spotless, and Riff's work station in the lab was unoccupied, there would be hell to pay. Riff Raff had the burning scars on his back to show for it.

As the weeks turned into months, and those months dragged on tirelessly, Magenta's hatred for the planet they were now residing on shrank until it was merely an unimportant glimmer in the back of her mind. She was homesick, still, but her newly rediscovered closeness with her brother filled the void that had once ruled so much of her heart. It didn't make her hate Frank, or the work she was forced to do around the castle, any less though, and she was just as restless at night.

Riff, on the other hand, was becoming more and more uneasy with Earth. The rational part of his brain was trying desperately to link the symptoms he felt whenever his sister was around with his present situation. Perhaps the chemicals Frank made him experiment with had addled his brain. Perhaps it was just the change in temperature. He was becoming infatuated. Obsessed. And the worst part was that Magenta didn't even see it. When Frank was away, it was worse, because Riff had no excuse for staying in the laboratory alone. Magenta would slink down there in the elevator, drape herself across his desk until he paid her attention, and there was nothing he could do about it. The sultry way she conducted herself around him, and the affect it was having on him, were both things she was entirely oblivious to, and he couldn't bear the thought of her knowing. Surely she would cast him side, label him a pervert, and return to the misery she had felt when they first arrived.

One morning, Frank left for one of his off-site adventures, dressed scantily in his usual attire, but with a leather jacket as a half-hearted attempt at some modesty, leaving Riff alone with his shameful thoughts, and his restless sister. Magenta had, admittedly, left him alone for at least an hour, as he scribbled down formulae and mixed brightly coloured potions together, mostly just pretending to work for the sake of avoidance, but it hadn't been long before he heard the familiar whirring and clanking of the elevator.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked, an unusually playful tone to her voice, "the _master_ has gone out. Come, let's go have some fun."

Riff barely bothered to look up from his notations, "I have to get these finished today. You know how he is."

Magenta did know exactly how _he_ was, but she shrugged it off. In these weeks, she'd become much more like her old self. If he wasn't so irritable, Riff might have been able to appreciate this more, but as it was, her being so unintentionally provocative (it was unintentional, right?) was doing nothing besides wind him up further. He supposed it wasn't really her fault. They were cooped up in the castle with only themselves for company. He was bound to end up being on the receiving end of her wild attitude and fiery personality. Previously, he had despised the men his little sister had wrapped herself around, the way they stared at her when she sauntered along in barely anything. He'd been angry at her for provoking that kind of a reaction, but he'd never once considered it was because he was just as disgusting as those men he'd hated so much. He'd always blamed it on her, but now, he realised, he was more frustrated with himself.

Perhaps, even then, it had been partially the same scenario, he'd just been better at fighting it off.

"He won't be back for ages," Magenta whined, perching on the stool beside his, "I'm sure you could take an hour or two off, to entertain your poor bored sister?"

"Aren't there chores you should be doing?"

Magenta laughed, and he was so taken aback by it that he actually stopped what he was doing. He hadn't heard his sister laugh since they arrived on this awful planet. It was a rich, beautiful sound, memories of their childhoods suddenly flooding his mind as she smiled at him, her teeth bright white in contrast to her red-painted lips. She hadn't worn make-up when they first arrived, but just last week she'd started again, and Riff was ashamed to admit he liked it, appreciated the way her thick black lashes framed her eyes. He liked to pretend she was doing it for him, but then that just made him feel even worse about himself.

"You think he cares whether I have mopped the floors and polished the furnishings? He'll return home with another _groupie_ and not even notice what anything besides his own bedroom looks like, so long as there's food on the table," she sat up straight, grinning at him, "besides, I already spent an hour cleaning."

She was gazing at him with the expression of a nine year old Magenta who had got tired of cleaning dishes, and begged her brother to read her a story instead, while their parents were out doing something important and secret. He'd never been able to say no to her then, either. Remembering her as that child, that little girl who had relied so heavily on him, made his lust for her even worse. He looked away from her, contemplating.

"I really must finish these," he said, slowly, feeling like his cheeks were probably burning, betraying him.

Magenta let out a dramatic sigh, jumping down from her seat with the elegance of a gazelle as she moved quickly over to the refrigerators at the side of the room. Riff's eyes followed her as she brushed her fingers over the handle to one of the locked metal chests, glancing back at him. He raised his eyebrows. She didn't know the combination. There was no way she could possibly know it, when even he himself hadn't been privileged enough to be given it, and yet, she was punching numbers in. The fridge let out a gasp, the door opening easily. Magenta disappeared for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly on the metal door, and then when she reappeared, she had a large bottle of Transylvanian wine in her hand, and was already pulling the cork out.

"What?" she questioned, noticing the look of shock on her brother's face. Her lips curved into a devious smile, "oh please, I figured out the combination weeks ago. He doesn't keep anything interesting in there."

He watched her swig from the bottle, wiping bright red lipstick off the neck, before offering the bottle to him. Riff shook his head, looking down at his work with determination, but he should have known she wouldn't take no for an answer. A moment later, she was perched at the end of the desk, the bottle between him and his work. He sighed, snatching it from her. Perhaps if he took a brief interlude for a drink, she would leave him alone.

He had never been much of a drinker – he never had the occasion for it – but as soon as the dark red liquid touched his lips his mind went back to their home. To the tasteless dinner parties their parents had held, Magenta sitting on the stairs not allowed to join in, whilst he had to sit at the dinner table and enthuse about his studies for a group of guests, most of whom he didn't know, and never saw again. To the only time he ever broke curfew, sitting in a back alley with a boy from school, sipping from a bottle his companion had snatched from an older brother, or cousin. Someone. It was hazy. To sharing a drink with Magenta to mark the five years of their parents' demise, not talking to one another, in a damp corner of a rented flat that they only lived in for two weeks. The memories were nothing short of depressing, and yet he missed it. He pulled the bottle from his lips and handed it back to his sister. The deviant look on her face had faded, replaced with a soft, knowing smile.

"Just like we had at home," he said, clearing his throat.

"Better," she breathed, before raising the bottle to her mouth again. 

* * *

After two Frank-less days, they were beginning to settle into a routine that didn't involve hours in the lab, or cleaning dishes, or sweeping hallways. In fact, they'd stayed up so late, watching the stars from their master's bedroom – the room with the biggest window – and talking, without their usual need for hushed tones, that Magenta hadn't even bothered getting out of bed until gone lunchtime the following day. Usually, Riff Raff would be on the edge, anxious about when Frank would return, especially with the castle in the state it presently was, but this time he wasn't. It wasn't like him to be gone for more than one day, so they were making the most of the time they had. Any worries he might have had, had been wiped away by the blissful mood his sister was in. Whilst she'd been intoxicated with wine for the last two days in a row, his mind was cloudy from another drug altogether. That was the effect she had on him. He couldn't have concentrated on lab work even if he wanted to, not all the while her infectious laughter was being heard through the stone walls, securing its place as Riff's favourite sound in the world.

Riff sat on the end of his bed, and watched his sister sleep. She was no longer troubled by nightmares. No, for the last two nights, she had slept contentedly, even a hint of a smile on her lips as she dreamt. He had not enquired as to what she was dreaming about, but he was pleased that, even without night terrors, she had sought out his bed rather than her own. She had delighted in curling around him the previous night, whispering half-nonsenses, which probably only made sense to her alcohol-clouded mind. He had let her, through a slight haze of his own, and not even felt guilty about it.

"Riff?" came a soft murmur from the bed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He leant across to gaze tenderly into his sister's face. She had mascara smeared down her cheeks, and lipstick smudged almost comically, but she still looked so delicate and beautiful.

"I'm here, my dear sister," he replied, fighting the urge to stroke her hair. She smiled up at him.

"He's not back then?"

He shook his head, "no, not yet."

Once Magenta was up, dressed, and made up properly, she insisted on going to the kitchen to prepare lunch, despite Riff's protests. Of course, lunch consisted of bread and wine and very little else. Magenta couldn't cook. She wasn't even particularly adequate at cleaning. Really, she was not much use as a domestic at all, but Frank had always kept to his end of the deal when it came to punishing her for her mistakes, of which there were many. They had started off the day much in the same way they had finished the one before, passing a bottle of wine between them and talking about home, and about Frank, and everything else in between. They recounted childhood memories, Magenta scrunching up her nose at the embarrassing ones, and howling with laughter at the better ones. It was easily the longest they'd talked in years.

Eventually, the conversation came to a lull, and Riff found himself watching his sister as she gazed into the distance, silent. Her mood had shifted. Finally, she turned back to him, and her expression was far more sober than it had been previously.

"What happened to us?" she enquired, lightly.

He found himself replying with a similarly quiet "what do you mean?" when, of course, he knew exactly what she meant.

"We used to be so close. Where did it all go wrong?"

Well, Riff knew exactly where it had all gone wrong, somewhere around the moment he'd clenched his fist around her tiny, pale throat, threatening to snap her like a twig. They hadn't talked about it but it played on his mind often, and he knew it must have been on hers too. He shrugged his bony shoulders, lifting the wine bottle to his lips once more.

"We're alright now," he concluded.

She nodded, wordlessly taking the wine from him and slugging down her own mouthful, before handing it back.

"You're the only thing keeping me sane in this place."

"Likewise," Riff agreed, deciding he didn't like where this conversation was headed.

"It's felt different since-" she trailed off, and he stared at her, willing her to continue. His heart was pounding in his chest. Perhaps she had figured him out? But surely she couldn't have, would not have wanted to be in his company for the past two days if she had?

"Since?" he prompted, willing his voice to hold out.

"Oh, I don't know."

Magenta's reply was accompanied by a coy smile that told him she knew exactly what she meant, she just didn't want to say it. He frowned.

"Perhaps he's dead in a ditch somewhere," she said, after a moment, the swift change in subject taking him by surprise, "he'll never come back and we'll finally go home."

"I'm not sure I want to go home," Riff replied, slowly.

Magenta raised her eyebrows, "you'd prefer to be stuck in this place, taking orders from that monster for the rest of your days?"

"No," he admitted, "but I don't want to go back to how things were at home."

She gazed at him, and without him even uttering a word, she acknowledged exactly what he meant. Picking up the wine bottle and moving it away from them, Magenta leant across and wrapped her arms around her brother, pressing her face into his neck. Riff, who had never been good at the whole displays of affection thing, stiffened, touching a hand to her back.

"It's not going to," Magenta whispered, lifting her head. She was so close, he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes that were so often unnoticeable, could feel her warm breath on his face. If he leant forward even slightly, ducked his head just a little, he could taste those beautiful, plump, red lips of hers. But he mustn't. It wasn't worth the risk. The promise she'd just made, it would never hold up if he did. They would both be miserable. They-

Before Riff could even finish the thought, she was lifting a hand to his face, and he, frozen in place, could only watch as her gaze shifted from his eyes, to his mouth, and then, suddenly but at the same time painfully slowly, she kissed him. He felt like all the air was being sucked out of his lungs, like the blood in his veins had come alive. He'd never been kissed before, so perhaps it always felt like that, but he very much doubted it.

As quickly as her soft lips had touched his, they were gone again, and he immediately missed the contact. His eyes had slipped closed, but, now, as he opened them, he saw Magenta leaping over to the window, pulling the heavy drapes aside to risk a glance out.

"He's home," she said, flatly.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I really experimented with Columbia's character so I hope this interpretation does her some justice. As I mentioned in a previous chapter, these characters are based off their portrayals in the 2012/13 UK tour of Rocky Horror, not the film. I hope the jump in time makes sense. I'd love some feedback.

* * *

Despite the castle's unkempt, untidy greeting, Frank had returned in a pleasant mood, or about as pleasant as he ever was. Magenta had been ordered to get started on dinner, and Riff was to accompany the prince to the lab. They shared a look – one that said "we'll talk about this later" - and went their separate ways, mildly baffled by Frank's behaviour, but knowing better than to say anything.

Once they reached the lab, however, it became abundantly clear why they'd been so promptly separated. Waiting for them in the pale pink, door-less room, was Frank's latest groupie. Dressed in a plain red checked dress and white socks, accented with a pair of shiny black shoes, the girl – who appeared to be no older than sixteen or seventeen – was unusual for their master's tastes. Her hair was a mousey brown, falling straight and style-less round her shoulders. She wore no make up and, when Riff examined her unconscious body that lay motionless on the large work table, he saw dirt under her short, bitten down nails.

The fact that she was out cold wasn't even remotely surprising to him. Whilst he had never brought one of his companions down to the lab before, Riff had had an uneasy feeling about all the so-called "research" Frank had instructed him to undertake, and the only logical conclusion was that it would come to this.

"Riff Raff! Meet my latest discovery. She was going by the name Annie Tapper, but I think we can find something that suits her better, don't you?"

Riff certainly didn't have an opinion either way, and offered only a grunt in response, turning away from the girl. Although physically they bared no resemblance, he couldn't help but think of his sister. This poor girl was only a little younger than her.

"Spotted her busking in the old town. Delightful she was, dancing away on the cobbles. They call it 'tapping' you know... all the rage down here. Well, I had to have her didn't I? She was just _perfect_ for what I was looking for."

"And what is it you're looking for?" Riff asked, swiftly adding a well practised "Master".

"Our latest project," came Frank's sing-song reply, as he clenched his teeth into a grotesque smile, "I'm closing off the lab for a few _days_. Your instructions will be clear and you will do precisely as I say."

Riff nodded. It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

viii.

It was several hours into the next morning when Frank eventually let him retire to his quarters, leaving the laboratory locked, the newest addition still out cold on one of the work benches. Riff felt uneasy. It was one thing to observe, but quite another to actually undertake experiments on an unwilling participant. Of course, Frank had insisted the poor girl knew what he was planning for her, but since she hadn't awoken in the whole time she'd been in his company, Riff couldn't really be sure. Still, it was with a sick feeling in his stomach that he returned to his room, ready to collapse into a night of uneasy slumber.

Of course, somewhere along the line his mind had buried the memory of the kiss he'd shared with Magenta earlier in the day., amongst thoughts of syringes and blood tests and hallucinogens. That is, until he opened the door and found her sitting on his bed, in the dark, staring into space. It all came flooding back, and he so desperately wanted to press himself against her again, feel the warmth of her lips against his. She, however, looked troubled. Even as he entered the room, she only turned her face marginally, her lip twitching into not quite a smile.

"Sister?" he uttered, sitting down on the bed, which creaked loudly under the weight of them both.

"I had to say sorry," she whispered, not looking at him.

"For?"

Magenta sighed, "you know... It was wrong and... sick... and I can't bear you avoiding me for it."

Silently, Riff cursed Frank. Of course, he had been locked in the lab for the rest of the day, which his poor sister had interpreted as him being disgusted with her, when really, it was quite the opposite.

"I just thought I understood..." she continued, shaking her head, "it felt so right, even though I knew it shouldn't. I couldn't help myself. But I really am sorry I-"

Riff stopped her, placing a bony finger on her lips. She stared up at him with wide eyes, the expression on her face, combined with what he was about to do, sucking all the air out of his lungs. He had to be brave, a trait he could not boast about having often. His hands shaking, he moved to cup the back of her head and, feeling his heart pounding in his ears, he leant forward, brushing his lips against hers. Magenta let out a soft noise, almost feline-like, and he sighed deeply, pulling her closer to him. It was the bravest he had ever been, and his whole body trembled. He didn't want to pull away for fear that once he let go, it would be over, and that would be it.

"Oh," Magenta breathed, as soon as they parted, timidly touching her fingers to her lips.

"You did... understand..." even as he spoke, Riff Raff could feel his voice wavering, his pulse so abnormally fast it was making him feel faint. Everything about Frank and his string of sexual partners had always made them both feel dirty for having anything to do with it, his eccentric behaviour in the bedroom getting him into all sorts of trouble back home, let alone here, and yet, there they were. They could hardly argue that what was happening between them was any less disgusting. If Frank was ever to find out about it, he himself would probably have them executed for their crimes. And yet, somehow, it didn't matter. It still felt right.

Magenta leaned against him again, tracing her fingers along his face, down his prominent cheek bones, to his strong jawline. She kissed him once more, a soft, fleeting kiss, and then tucked her head under his chin, curling up around him. Moments later, she was fast asleep.

* * *

ix.

Magenta was awoken by a high-pitched squeal loud enough – and shrill enough – to break glass. Whilst unwelcome noise was hardly anything new, this particular one was, and Magenta burrowed her head into her lumpy pillow, hoping if she ignored it, it would go away. Moments later she heard the tip-tap of eager footsteps, felt the bed sink and, with a groan, opened her eyes to find "it" had infact done the opposite of going away, and was now sitting beside her.

It – or rather, _she_ – was short, slender, with limbs a little too long for her stubby torso, and hair a bland brown colour, cropped short, around chin length. Despite the fact she was dressed in bright blue pyjamas, her face was fully made-up, her cheeks rosy, bubblegum pink lipgloss accenting her perky lips. Her eyes were the same muddy brown as her hair, but large and childlike. She couldn't have been much older than sixteen. Magenta stared at her, narrowing her eyes, and the girl's grin just grew wider, as she held out a hand.

"Hey! My name's Columbia!" she told her, bouncing a little on the hard mattress, "it sure is nice to meet ya. I thought for a moment I was the only girl in the house but now that I've found you I just _know_ we're going to be best friends."

Magenta's stare became a glare as she ignored the hand that was currently wavering in front of her face. The girl – Columbia – didn't seem particularly phased by this, though, dropping her arm to her side. She jumped down from the bed, staring at a space behind Magenta, lifting her hands above her head to create a window with her fingers. Magenta had no idea what she was doing, but she did know she was going to have to either seek out her brother, or a stiff drink, very soon.

"D'ya think Frankie will let me move in here for a bit? I've always loved sleepovers. This place could use a bit of a restyle, but I reckon it might work. Some fairylights, a few posters of Bowie – you know who Bowie is right? - maybe more colorful bed sheets... yeah, it could work." With every word that spilled from Columbia's bright pink lips, Magenta felt herself growing more and more agitated, as well as confused. Eventually, she threw the covers off herself, and left the room, leaving the child to talk to herself.

It didn't take her long to locate Riff. He was sitting at the make-shift desk he had recently constructed for his bedroom, a tablet laid out in front of him. He had not yet got dressed for the day, and wore instead a nightshirt that had once had buttons, until Magenta had torn them off only a few days ago. At her arrival – she no longer bothered to knock – he put the tablet down and smiled at her.

"This is unexpected," he acknowledged, pushing his chair back so she could take her place on his lap.

Magenta tangled herself around her brother, pressing her lips to his neck and running her nails along the part of his chest that was exposed by his lack of buttons. She sighed, "I was awoken by a _pest_ in my quarters."

"I thought we eradicated that infestation last month. Do you mean to say it's back?" Riff mused, referring to the wasp nest that they had uncovered just weeks previously.

She shook her head, nuzzling against his throat, "no, this time it was a child. One of Frank's latest finds I don't wonder," she rolled her eyes, kissing his jaw, "I left her perusing my room. Maybe I'll just stay here."

Since their relationship had developed, it had become more and more frustrating trying to find time to spend together. Magenta was particularly needy, seeking him out at all hours of the day. More than once, they'd almost been caught in the pantry whilst she was supposed to be making food, him with his trousers round his ankles and her with her skirt hitched up round her waist. As much as Riff hated to admit it, her need for him had been particularly useful in keeping her out of the way when Frank needed to spend time alone in the lab with his experiments. Either way, he was always more than happy to assist her, it was just keeping it from their master that was proving tricky.

"Her name," she muttered, kissing his throat, "is Columbia," she ran her fingers down his chest again, parting the fabric more, "and she squeaks worse than the pantry door before its been oiled."

Why Magenta had to punctuate her actions with all this talk, he wasn't sure, but it made Riff Raff uncomfortable that he'd been keeping his association with the aforementioned girl such a secret. He lifted her head and looked into her eyes.

"Stop talking," he ordered, lifting her with some ease onto the desk and kissing her roughly.

She happily obliged.

* * *

x.

As was typical with Frank, it wasn't long before he grew bored with Columbia. Just like all the others, he soon tossed her aside. The only difference was that, unlike any of his previous playmates, he couldn't throw Columbia out because of what he had turned her into. Fortunately, Magenta warmed to her. Their relationship was something Riff Raff struggled to understand. She'd never really had female friends growing up. He'd spent her teenage years chasing away men – not even boys; she'd never really got on with anyone her own age – but never any girls. It would do his sister good to have some female company, he reasoned, late at night when he was lying in bed alone, as she was spending the night with her new friend. Columbia, with her five-pitches-too-high voice and over-exciteable personality, was an odd choice though. She was the direct opposite of his sister, but then perhaps that was why it worked. They bickered all the time, Magenta rolling her eyes in his direction practically every other time Columbia opened her mouth, but she'd grown fond of the earthling. She never said as much, but since she had moved into Magenta's quarters – now also home to several huge posters of "rock stars" (whatever they were), and a set of multicoloured glinting lights which Magenta pretended to detest, but was secretly infatuated with, because they reminded her of home – his sister had been spending far less time with him, and more with the noisy brat.

Of course, he was jealous. It was natural for him to be jealous, after weeks and weeks of being the only glimmer of joy in Magenta's miserable life, to suddenly be replaced by this plaything of their master's. It would be wrong for him not to be jealous, despite the fact that he knew their relationship was purely innocent, and that what she sought from him, she could not get from Columbia. He pretended not to hate the girl, for his sister's sake. Anything for his most beautiful sister, to keep her happy, keep her laughing that rich, joyful laugh that had so often filled the hallways lately. It was different to when she laughed with him. Columbia had given her back a fraction of the childhood their parents' accident had snatched so cruelly from her.

But that just made him want to hate her more.

He had thought about kidnapping her one night, taking her down to the lab, maybe trying out a few more experiments on her. He could drug her up again, alter her mind back to the terrifying state she was in when she first arrived. He could drug her so heavily that she never spoke again, never touched his sister again. Magenta would get bored of her, Frank would have no choice but to leave her at the side of the road somewhere, like an abandoned puppy. No one would ever be any the wiser.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't put his sister through it. He would have to make do with how things were now, instead. Frank worked him harder, setting up the lab for the next experiment, and Riff Raff waited with trepidation for the day he'd arrive home with another Annie. Perhaps if there were two of them, things would go back to how they were. Columbia would have someone else to play with, and he would have Magenta returned to him.

That night, as he squeezed his eyes closed and willed sleep to take over, he thought about how much had changed in the eight months they had been on Earth. He thought about the feeling of vulgar guilt that had racked his mind when Frank had arrived with his experiment, and how he was now not even remotely phased by it, longed for it in fact. There was an element of control that came with a syringe, a scalpel, a chamber full of toxic acids. He thought again of Magenta, of the woman she had become in their time here. He thought of her in his bed, writhing under the covers, begging for him to touch her. It was a far cry from the girl who he had initially boarded with, but he knew it was he himself who had made the biggest change.

Grunting, deciding there was no way he was going to be getting any sleep tonight, he heaved himself from his bed and shrugged his night shirt on. Easing the door open, he made the short journey down the hallway to his sister's room, for once not caring who saw him.


	5. Chapter 5

xi.

Magenta had become an expert at sneaking through the dark corridors of their castle, readjusting her work uniform, wiping smudged lipstick from her chin, pinning her hair back into place. She knew the rooms Frank wouldn't go in, knew all the "secret" routes to and from each part of the house. Certain times of the day – during dinner, very early in the morning, any time when Columbia was indisposed or Frank had an extra guest over – she could get away with dragging her brother away from his work and have him for a whole hour to herself, and not even have to worry about sneaking around. It became a game to her, and she was good at it. Frank treated her like an idiot, and she loved to prove him wrong. There was a certain feeling of triumph that went with going behind his back.

Now that she shared a room with a room mate who she had never asked for, but somewhat tolerated, they had to be sneaky. Their moments of passion were no longer confined to Riff Raff's quarters. They had to take them where they could get them, even if that was in the unswept pantry, or a dark corridor, or in a guest room that hadn't been touched in years and was covered in a thick layer of dust. It didn't matter much to her. If anything, it made it more exciting. She knew Riff didn't share that sentiment. He was always so anxious, glancing around constantly to ensure they weren't being watched. Magenta had always been especially thrilled by doing things that she'd been banned from, so in that sense it seemed to make perfect sense that this was where she sought her pleasure. She was quite at home in dirty corners of the house, or even out in the back yard after dark, an area they'd only very recently been allowed to explore due to the arrival of several large dogs who Frank insisted Magenta take care of (and who, coincidently, cause them the most trouble because of their tendency to bark whenever their carer neared them).

Riff felt differently about the situation though. With all his books and fancy words, he'd always been a lot more romantic than she was, and it frustrated him that their relationship had become purely physical. He longed for Frank to go away for a few days, again, so he could have his sister to himself, rather than have to play along with her silly games for a cheap thrill between lab reports. It all felt a little too much like he had taken the position of those silly young men she ran about with back home. But, if they were going to keep it a secret from Frank, it was going to have to stay that way.

-

xii.

"Soooooo," Columbia's squeaky voice broke through the darkness one night, as Magenta tried in vain to get some sleep, "Riff Raff. He's your brother, right?"

Rolling her eyes, Magenta contemplated ignoring her, pretending she was asleep, but she knew it was no good. Columbia would only bounce over to her bed, from the ridiculous crib-like contraption she herself slept in, and prod her until she answered. Still, she was fairly certain Riff's habit of referring to her as "sister" should have provided an adequate answer for Columbia's musings, and this alone made her weary of where this conversation was headed.

"Yes," she finally responded, stretching under her duvet, "my older brother."

"So, like, on Transylvania.."

"Transsexual," she replied, correcting her idly, "Transylvania is the galaxy. Transsexual is the planet."

"Right, right. So... there... is that not... I mean to say..."

Magenta was growing tired of the girl's chatter, but couldn't help but stiffen a little at the subject matter, even if she fought hard not to show it. Columbia had always been relatively at ease with them discussing their home, taking it all in her stride, in a way that Magenta found almost admirable, but it did mean she often asked a lot of stupid questions. Occasionally, those questions weren't entirely stupid, and Magenta had an awful feeling that this was going to be one of those occasions. Contrary to popular opinion – Riff's, especially – Columbia's brain was larger than a pea, and she could be quite observant, most commonly right when Magenta needed her not to be.

"Spit it out..."

"I mean... I'm trying to work out if it's normal for you to... you know..."

If it wasn't pitch black in their room, and she didn't have her back to her, Magenta would have sworn she could see Columbia's cheeks flush. That was the one thing that set Earthlings aside from their kind – they got so terribly embarrassed when talking about sex. Even now, as Magenta feared her deepest darkest secret was at the brink of being uncovered, she didn't feel embarrassed about it. That just wasn't an emotion she was equipped to express.

"Are you asking if everyone in Transylvania fucks their siblings, because if that's the case then no. Riff and I are... I mean, we didn't plan for it to happen that way, but it just did," she finally said, calmly, her voice remaining even.

"Oh."

For a long, blissful moment, Columbia was quiet, and Magenta actually fooled herself into believing the girl might have finally gone to sleep, but then she heard the crib creak, and its inhabitant let out a contemplative sigh. Magenta was growing more agitated by the second.

"Does Frankie know?"

Magenta swallowed, rolling over to glare at the girl, perfectly capable of making out her face in the dark, "no. And you'd better keep it that way unless you want to be served as a starter to my dogs."

"Okay," came the soft reply, followed by another creak. Magenta shifted so her back was once again to her room-mate, and squeezed her eyes closed.

"I know it's meant to be all kinds of gross and stuff, but I think it's romantic. I mean, it's like you were put with the person you're meant to be with from day one, y'know? It's kinda beautiful."

And that, Magenta decided with a rare smile, was what set Columbia aside from everyone else she'd ever known.

-

xiii.

Since Columbia's arrival, the string of guests Frank admitted to the castle grew longer and steadier, much to the girl's dismay. Whilst Magenta could never understand the appeal of the prince – the very idea of him touching her made her wretch – she saw how miserable it was making her friend, and that made her hate him even more. With more guests, Frank was even more tiresome when it came to chores, and it was of very little comfort having Columbia traipse around behind her, half-heartedly dusting, whilst whining loudly about how _unfair_ everything was. At least with her new companion knowing their secret, and willingly keeping it to herself, Magenta was able to spend more time with her brother, even if most nights she was too exhausted from incessant scrubbing to do much more than sleep beside him.

"It won't always be like this," he whispered into her hair one night, after she'd spent almost an hour redressing a particularly brutal pattern of lashings on his back and neck, "when we return to Transsexual, it will be better."

Just lately, Riff had taken to talking about their home more than he had before, sometimes even going into great detail about plans she knew would never go into fruition. He was working on it, he insisted. He had plans. Great plans that involved escape pods and laser beams, and he and Magenta flying off into the distance, leaving this awful planet behind. Magenta didn't have it in her to admit to his face that she knew it was all false promises and nothing more. She knew, to some extent, these tales were comforting to him, even if they were twisting him, turning her brother into somebody she wasn't entirely sure she knew.

"All I want is this," she whispered, pressing her lips to his bare chest, "I don't need promises of anything better. I have what I need, here."

But it was never enough for him. Since childhood, Riff had been filled with this need to provide for her, feeling like nothing he ever did was good enough, even when it was. He was his own worst critic. It was worse now. Whilst Magenta couldn't really say she was happy working for Frank, it wasn't worth the amount of guilt that tormented her poor brother. And she meant it when she said he was all she needed, he just never saw it that way. He probably never would.

He never talked about his work in the lab, but it had been closed off more and more recently, and Magenta couldn't actually recall the last time she'd been allowed in there to clean. Not that she really got much cleaning done anyway, her brother serving as a much better distraction. It pissed her off more than anything that Frank – and, to a lesser extent, Riff too – treated her like a child, forbidding her from going anywhere near any of their work. It was worse still now she had Columbia. It was almost like Frank had given her Columbia as a gift, a toy to play with to distract her whilst he and Riff got on with the more important work. Magenta was desperate to ask about it, but she hated the grave expression her brother offered whenever she neared the subject, so she remained quiet.

A few weeks later, Frank brought her and Columbia a series of boxes to unpack. Each box was labelled with a room, and after opening the first to discover a camera, Magenta had quickly gone through all the others to ensure her own room, and more importantly, her brother's, didn't have similar contraptions. Fortunately, it was only the rooms that were usually unoccupied that were going to have these installations, and it was Magenta's job to dispatch them. She did this without really knowing what she was doing – after all, she had barely mastered cleaning, let alone anything else – but judging from the master's mood after, she must have done it with some accuracy because he made no complaints. The footage from the twelve cameras – mostly fitted in the large and, up until now, unused guest rooms, but also one in the dining room, one in Frank's meditation room, and another in the grounds which Columbia had had to climb over a gate to fit – was streamed through to a large, square monitor in the lab, much to Magenta's dismay. She had hoped she might get to do some observing of her own.

A few nights later her brother appeared with a second monitor which he promptly fitted into Magenta's quarters, and the night after that, one appeared in his too. Frank knew about neither.

Whilst these monitors provided some entertainment for Magenta, the one room she was most curious about remained, frustratingly, out of bounds. Worse still, Riff had been ordered to spend his nights down there, which meant Magenta was feeling particularly deflated and needy. She had actually taken to sharing a bed with Columbia just to have someone to curl up to.

One night, as the clock outside struck two, Magenta skilfully unwrapped herself from the girl, slipped a thin robe round herself, and headed down the hall to where the elevator was located. Grateful that it no longer rattled, she started the iron contraption up, and began the journey to the lab, feeling a familiar chill of excitement run through her. There was nothing she enjoyed more than doing something she'd specifically been banned from doing. As the elevator came to a halt, she went to step outside, but was frozen in place by a loud sound coming from within the lab. It sounded like the howl of a caged animal, slicing through her like a knife. She took a deep breath and took a few steps, but when she heard the sound again, it was followed by calm muttering that she quickly identified as her brother's voice. Images flashed through Magenta's mind, of the brother who had snapped in a heart beat, leaving grey purple and blue marks on her flesh for weeks. Of the brother who, for weeks now, had made threats towards their master, that now didn't seem so idle. She swallowed, deciding in a hurry that she no longer wanted to know what was going on down here, she just wanted her bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **this chapter is really long because my internet was down for three weeks... I did debate posting it as two separate chapters, but I figured there wasn't much point. 

* * *

xiv.

Columbia had taken to sneaking out, late at night, and not returning until very early the following morning. The thrill of helping her shimmy expertly down the pipes outside their room, over the gates, and onto the back of a motorbike every other night, was trumped only by the one that came with the amount of time Magenta was suddenly able to spend with her brother. Of course, what might happen if Frank were to find out about his groupie's night time adventures made assisting them all the more appealing. Magenta had always been a rebellious teenager, and in that way Columbia reminded her of herself., even if she had taken a lot more persuasion to get her out of the window that very first night.

"Where does she go?" Riff asked one night, as Magenta pressed kisses to his shoulder blades, raking her blood red finger nails across newly healed skin.

"Who knows? The boy with the hideously noisy transporter arrives, she climbs on, they leave, and a few hours later she comes back. I don't care enough to ask."

As much as Riff enjoyed his sister's flippancy, he couldn't help but be a little concerned by this revelation. Although Columbia was very much human, she was still different to other Earthlings, and her association with someone outside of the castle put him on the edge. Any unnecessary attention that might fall upon them would surely not end well. Although on Earth they didn't have the same curfew rules as back home, Columbia was still barely older than a child, and not only that, but if anyone recognised her – or, rather, _Annie_ – that would result in a lot of uncomfortable questions that would need answering.

"Frank doesn't know?"

Magenta laughed, her breath tickling his ear as she leant close to him, leaning her arms around his neck, "do you think she would still be here if he did?"

They didn't talk any more on the subject – Magenta had a way of distracting her brother from thinking or talking at all – but it didn't stop Riff from worrying about it. A couple of nights later, instead of going straight to find Magenta, he stayed down in the lab, watching Columbia's little escape routine on the monitor. It was difficult to know where she was going, given he had never been outside of the grounds himself, and the camera did not turn far enough to catch the direction the motorbike zoomed off in, but he was at least satisfied with how well hidden the child managed to stay. If he hadn't have been looking for her, he might not have noticed her at all.

Earth still held a great deal of mystery to him. The machine that Columbia's visitor arrived on each night, for example, was nothing like anything they had back home. It frustrated him that he knew nothing about what went on beyond the gate of the castle's grounds, except for the little his sister reported back from Columbia. And even then, her brain had been so altered by his work, he couldn't ever know how reliable that information was.

It was then that he began to form his next plan. If Columbia had managed to escape, with complete success, several nights in a row, surely he and Magenta could do the same? If anything, they knew their escape route better than she did, had been polishing that wretched gate since before she even knew of its existence. He proposed all of this to his sister, who stared wide eyed at him for a moment, before bursting into a roar of laughter.

"I don't get what's so funny," he said, growing agitated.

"Where would we go?! We don't know anywhere, Riff. And even if we did, you know I can't handle this planet's atmosphere... the constant light, even at night time..."

"I don't propose we go _anywhere_," he stubbornly crossed his arms, "and certainly not for any extended period of time. Just long enough that _he_ won't notice we're gone."

Magenta tilted her head to one side, "but... why?"

He didn't really have an answer to that, primarily because he couldn't understand why his sister _wouldn't_ want to see beyond he castle's boundaries. Magenta, who had always caused trouble just for the sake of causing it, was usually the one trying to persuade him to be rebellious, not the other way around. He knew she had changed since arriving here, but he hadn't realised just how much.

"Don't you wonder about where Columbia goes?" he asked, hoping to appeal to his sister's nosiness if nothing else.

Magenta shrugged her shoulders, "I already told you, I don't much care what she does. It gives me extra time with you... I don't question it."

"But if we could go beyond the gates... we _would_ be together. Just you and I on an adventure, like when we were children..."

"We're not children anymore, Riff," Magenta sighed, "please don't compare how we are now, to how we were then. It was a lifetime ago. We are different now."

After his sister had been so dismissive of it, Riff Raff let the subject drop for a couple of days, but the idea was still fresh in his mind. He found himself thinking over it whilst he was working in the lab, unable to concentrate on his work. He had always had an obsessional personality, a trait which he was always resentful of. It was the same thing that made his relationship with Magenta so uncomfortable a lot of the time. Once an idea was in his head, there was no getting rid of it. 

* * *

"His name's Eddie," Magenta hummed one night, lying in bed with her back to him.

"Who?"

She sighed, glancing at him over her shoulder, "Columbia's play thing. His name is Eddie. He's twenty two years old and he lives in a "two room" over a shop that sells liquor, about twenty minutes from here. It smells of cigarettes and has ugly wallpaper, and they fuck on a mattress on the floor, that's even more uncomfortable than our beds here."

Riff Raff remained silent. His sister had been acting so oddly for the last few days, he wasn't really sure why she was telling him this information now. There was a bitter tone to her voice, and she was lying perfectly still, still turned away from him. He had already realised he had angered her with this particular subject, but he still couldn't work out why.

"That was all I could get out of her," she finally said.

He'd left it at that, deciding there was no point in angering her any further, but he processed the information all the same. Where would Columbia have met this Eddie, if he wasn't somebody from her past? If he was indeed an old acquaintance of "Annie", what else did she remember about her life before the castle? He couldn't help but be concerned. And with his sister reacting as oddly as she was, his concerns only deepened. If Magenta didn't want to do his dirty work for him, he would have to do it himself.

The following day, he located Columbia in the quarters she shared with Magenta. Unusually, she was alone. His sister, she quickly informed him, was seeing to her dogs. Columbia never went out into the yard because she was scared of the large canines, so she was awaiting Magenta's return so they could go and "do somethin' fun together instead". It took all of Riff Raff's self restraint not to roll his eyes at her. Instead, he forced a pleasant smile and sat down beside her on his sister's bed.

"Magenta was telling me about your little escape routine," he said, slowly, "when you go off to see... what's his name..."

"Eddie!" Columbia squealed, kicking her legs.

Riff nodded, the false smile still attached to his lips, "right. Eddie. Well, I was wondering how you met this Eddie? On account of the fact the master does not let us leave, of course."

Scrunching up her nose, Columbia seemed to hesitate, her legs stopping mid-motion. She tilted her head to one side, "I don't remember."

"He just picked you up from outside of the grounds one night?" Riff pressed.

"Yeah!"

"So how did you know to look for him? To go down to him?"

Columbia frowned with her whole face, looking more like some kind of caricature than a real person, and Riff stared at her, growing more agitated by the second. He was glad he rarely had to spend any real time with the girl because everything about her wound him up. How Magenta could bear to be stuck with her for so long each day, he couldn't understand.

"I don't remember. I just did," she finally said, with a shrug, "why? Am I in trouble? Has Frankie found out?"

"No, not at all," Riff Raff said, getting to his feet.

"So I can still see him? Eddie?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed in the lab." 

* * *

In the days that followed, Columbia was summoned to Frank's bedroom more than she had been in weeks, and Riff spent most of his time with his dear insatiable sister, the matter of Eddie having been brushed under the carpet. With a little more time on their hands, Riff had hoped he might have spent at least some of it romancing Magenta, or at least talking with her, but she had other ideas. She was like a wild animal, the way she approached him as soon as Columbia was out of the way. Although he would never deny what she wanted, after all the biting and scratching and thrashing about was over, he would still lie awake whilst she slept, and contemplate their relationship, sometimes going over every detail of it for hours, feeling himself slowly go insane. Whilst he thrived on her need for him, he couldn't help but feel there was something missing. Their relationship had become so physical, what if that was all it was? What if that was why she had grown to spend so much more time with Columbia? Was there really any difference in the way they conducted themselves, and the way Frank was with Columbia, or any of his other groupies?

He would do anything for her. He watched her sleep and his heart ached in his chest with a need to be everything for her. But how did he know she felt the same way? How did he know it wasn't just a quick tumble in the sheets for her?

Riff Raff groaned, squeezing his eyes closed, willing his brain to switch off. Just as he was finally drifting off to sleep, he felt his sister move beside him, a bony arm move to rest across his chest, followed by her soft cheek against his bare skin. She muttered something in her sleep, nuzzling against him, and he sighed softly, taking in the smell of her hair before sleep finally took him.

The following morning, Riff awoke to find the space beside him was empty. He sat upright and examined his room, but it did not take long to conclude that he was indeed alone. It was unusual enough for him to awaken before his sister, let alone for her to have left whilst he was still deep in slumber, so this situation perplexed him. In fact, he couldn't help but feel a little irritated. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed and his feet hit the familiar cold floor, he tried to reason with himself, going over different scenarios that may have led to Magenta having to leave early this particular morning. But it didn't matter how much logic he applied to the situation, he was still left with a feeling of disappointment and anger. He began to get dressed for the day. The sound of approaching footsteps slowed his fingers as he did up his buttons, and he turned just in time for the door to open, revealing his sister, a sheepish look on her face. She was still dressed in the slinky black negligée he had lovingly admired her in the night before, her feet bare and her hair uncombed.

"Where have you been?" he enquired, his tone a little sharper than he'd intended, causing his sister's cheeks to flush.

"I wanted to check Frank was still... indisposed," she muttered, closing the door behind her, "you needn't look so betrayed. I did it for us. I didn't expect you to be awake yet."

_Of course, she wants a quick morning fumble_, Riff Raff thought bitterly, sneering at his sister as he continued to get dressed. Well, he was no longer in the mood. He turned away from her, purposely avoiding her stare, although he could picture the expression on her face perfectly without even needing to see it. Well, he wasn't going to fall for it. Not this time. Finally, once he was fully clothed, he turned to look at her. She was leaning against the door, her arms folded across her chest, her lips forming a perfect pout, just as he'd imagined.

"We're leaving tonight," she finally said, rocking back on her heels. She always looked so much smaller when she wasn't dressed for Frank.

"Leaving?"

Magenta nodded, "you wanted to leave the castle. Well, it's all arranged. Eddie arrives for us tonight."

"Eddie?!"

"That boy Columbia plays around with," she said, rolling her eyes, "with the noisy trans-"

"I know who he is!" Riff Raff snapped, turning his back to her, his mind racing.

"Well, he's coming to collect us. That is what you wanted, is it not?"

He couldn't be angry with her for doing what he wanted. He had pressed the matter time and time again, not letting it drop even though it was clearly not what she wanted, and yet now that she'd gone behind his back and arranged an escape route, he couldn't help but be bitter. He had always provided for Magenta. He was unreasonably annoyed with her for taking that away from him.

And besides, he had wanted to escape on his own terms. Just him and Magenta, alone in the night, without the constrains of this ghastly castle, and the annoying brat, who would no doubt be coming with them now. Although his sister had acted with the best of intentions, he was seething. She had made matters worse.

"We can escape without the assistance of _earthlings_," Riff Raff scorned, again looking at her. The look of triumph on her face drooped, and he immediately regretted being so dismissive of her. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was to see Magenta look hurt, and that was exactly what he had caused. He moved to her, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek lovingly, "I mean... I had hoped to spend some time just you and I, outside of the castle. That is what _you_ wanted also?"

Magenta leant against him like a cat seeking affection, tilting her head toward his touch, letting out a deep sigh, "it will just be us, Riff," she whispered, guiding his other hand to the top of her thigh, her knee brushing his groin, "Eddie has... _other things_ to see to. He's merely transport."

Involuntarily, Riff gasped, pulling his sister closer to him. She moved to kiss his neck and he was soon so intoxicated by her touch, her smell, the way her fingers left his skin buzzing, that his head was so full of her, any thoughts of Eddie were quickly banished. She pushed him back towards the bed, and, with a low laugh, picked up where they had left off the previous night.

* * *

Despite allowing himself to be distracted that morning, Riff was still concerned about their plans for the night, not least because of the mood Frank was in. Frank had spent most of the day in the lab, with Columbia perched on his lap, prattling away, whilst Riff worked on paperwork. Columbia, like Magenta, was not allowed in the lab ordinarily, so besides her high-pitched squealing distracting him, her presence alone made him uneasy, as did Frank's sudden re-attachment to her. It was not like him to drop someone completely, and then pick them up again weeks later. Admittedly, Columbia was different from his other companions, but it bothered Riff all the same.

After getting very little work done, he was dismissed before dinner time. He would normally have sought out his sister in this time – she was no doubt doing battle with kitchen appliances – but on this occasion he went instead to his quarters. There was no point in risking Frank's wrath for stalling dinner, and besides he had a lot to mull over. About an hour later, Magenta arrived with leftover bread and tepid, over cooked meat (his sister's speciality), which they shared, along with a bottle of wine that Riff had been storing under a loose floorboard. Unusually, they ate in silence, and sitting apart. Fortunately, Frank's plans for the evening only stretched as far as a night in with Columbia, and they were unofficially excused of their duties, allowing preparation for their night time adventure to begin.

"We are to meet Columbia at the gate when the clock strikes one," Magenta explained, as she stripped of the maid's dress Frank had assigned to her, in favour of a deep red one which Riff hadn't seen since they'd arrived on Earth. He had always detested the flimsy, translucent material that left little to the imagination. It was one of the outfits he had cursed her for wearing as a teenager, which had just made her wear it more. Now, she was wearing it for him, and it still made him feel just as ill.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, looking up at her, "without Columbia distracting him, who's to say he won't notice our disappearance?"

Magenta, who was leaning over fastening her shoes, turned to offer him a coy smile, "I'm pretty sure that won't be a problem. I dropped a little slumber capsule into his wine at dinner. In fact, I dropped two," she grinned at him, "I suspect he's fast asleep right now."

Again, his sister's flippancy rattled Riff, but he remained silent, watching her as she straightened herself out, re-applying lipstick and finger-combing her wild auburn hair. He had watched her undertake this routine many times before, but it felt different now. Usually, he was seething, awaiting the arrival of a stranger who was going to whisk her away, receiving the benefit of her hours of preening and grooming herself. But now, she was doing it for him. The very idea of it made him tingle all over. Of course, he'd had had the privilege of her attention for weeks now, but somehow this just made it seem all the more real.

"How do I look?" Magenta asked, catching his eye.

Riff Raff felt his mouth go dry as he looked at her, taking her in, "you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on," he said quietly. Unusually, Magenta's cheeks flushed and she looked away from him, obviously having a rare moment of shyness. Riff's lips twitched into the briefest of smiles, which disappeared when he realised, with some dismay, that he had no clothes to change into, and would have to leave in the blood-stained work shirt he wore every day. As if reading his mind, Magenta turned back from the bag she was rummaging through and gently took his hand.

"You don't need fancy clothes Riff," she said quietly, linking their fingers together. She took his other hand and did the same, "you're perfect just as you are," she was watching him so carefully, and with so much wonderment in her eyes, Riff knew she was up to something. She very seldom looked nervous about anything.

She raised their arms slowly, and he recognised the movement almost immediately. Back in Transylvania, there was an ancient ritual that was used to decipher whether a man and woman were soul-mates. As far as Riff could tell, there was no equivalent to this on Earth, in fact it had gone out of fashion back home too, along with monogamous relationships in general, but he had read about it in tablets. The significance of it was not lost on Riff, whether his sister knew the history surrounding it or not, and, as she brought their arms together, their elbows meeting mid-air, he let out a low sigh, squeezing his eyes closed, letting the intense feeling of pleasure wash over him. He had always thought it was just a myth, but the electricity he felt between them for those few long seconds confirmed that it wasn't, and when he opened his eyes, Magenta had a similarly frazzled expression on her face.

"Wow..." he whispered, reluctantly releasing her hand, "so I guess that means-"

"It's almost one," Magenta interrupted, turning away from him to grab her bag, "come, we mustn't be late."

* * *

Not only was Eddie's transporter device – or motorbike, as Columbia quickly corrected – noisy, but it was impractical too. The seat only held two; three at a push. Although she did so with a sulk, Columbia agreed to wait behind whilst he took Magenta and Riff Raff into town, and then he'd ride back and collect her. It seemed pretty pointless to Riff, who would have been quite happy walking, but they could hardly argue about it now, so he went along with it. The journey itself was horrific. He and Magenta squashed themselves into the small seat, tight behind Eddie. As good as it felt to have her flush against him, his arms around her waist protectively, Riff couldn't help but be all too aware that she was sitting just as closely to Eddie. Besides this, it took all of his concentration to remain upright on the vehicle, wind thrashing around them, and the hideous noise blasting in his ears the whole ride. Finally, after what felt like an age, but was merely ten minutes or so, Eddie assured him, they stopped and clambered off.

"Ain't much open in Denton this time in the morning," Eddie told them with a disinterested shrug, jumping back on his bike, "I'll come back for ya just before six."

And, with that, he was gone.

The area they stood in was not entirely different from the market areas back home, although everything certainly looked older. Where they had a lot of dark glass and metallic buildings, everything here was brick and stone, with cloudy, dirty windows. An ugly fountain with a disfigured cherub spitting water stood in the middle of the square, surrounded by shops that looked like they had been deserted for years. A sign post pointed out a tavern a few miles away, a church in the other direction, along with two schools and a city hall. Riff turned to Magenta and she was leaning against one of the shops' windows, smudging at the glass to look inside.

"Empty," she said, puzzled.

Back home, even with the curfew, their shops and taverns were buzzing with activity at all hours. This area was completely bare. Eddie had not been lying when he said nothing was open at the time. Riff Raff frowned, sitting down heavily on the brick wall surrounding the gargling cherub. Magenta joined him seconds later.

"Now what?" she asked, fidgeting, "do we try the tavern?"

He shook his head, gathering his thoughts, and finally turned to look at her, "earlier, when we...why did you cut me off?"

"Are we really going to discuss this here? Whatever happened to the adventure?"

Wearily, he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, "I don't think I want an adventure."

The look of exasperation on his sister's face was understandable given how much he had raved about this particular plan, but that didn't help any. He wasn't sure what he had hoped to find on Earth, but this wasn't it, and to be honest he would have been quite happy back at the castle, in his quarters, snuggled up to his sleeping sister. Adventure was overrated. But it was too late now. He had pressed her into this little excursion; it was his own fault that it wasn't how he'd anticipated. No one else's. To be honest, if he could focus his mind on anything besides what had happened earlier, perhaps they could salvage some of it, but his mind continued to remain glued on one thing and one thing alone.

"You know what history books say about... what we did... don't you, Riff?" Magenta finally said, her voice laced with fear.

"I do," he agreed. The tingling sensation in his stomach that had been so unfamiliar until recently had returned, and he felt his breath catch in his throat as he waited for her to continue.

She sighed, looking at the ground. She kicked at the stone slabs beneath their feet, a troubled expression on her face. Riff's heart sunk.

"I've never once thought what we were doing was wrong," she continued, quietly, "but I guess some small part of me... and don't get angry Riff, I can't bear you getting angry but... a small part of me thought it was just circumstance, you know? We ended up in this god-awful place and you were the only real reminder of home. I've always felt safe with you. Safe, and loved, and... happy. But I still partially thought..." she trailed off, and Riff could hear his pulse echoing in his ears. No one had ever "broken up" with him before, but this certainly sounded like how one might do so. He felt tears prick at his eyes, a completely foreign sensation, and willed himself to stay strong. _She can't see you cry. She just can't._

"Genta," he whispered, his voice cracking halfway through the soft plead.

"It doesn't mean that I didn't love you. I just thought it would all be over as soon as we were back with our own kind. That it was all just a silly game created by my own want and desperation. That it could never mean all that I thought and hoped it meant, because... you are my brother. But now I realise..." she turned to him, taking both his hands, "now I realise it's not like that at all. We are supposed to be together. The love I feel for you is real, I see that so clearly now."

Riff stared at their hands, his sister's words not quite sinking in. He willed himself not to over-analyse, but he knew that what she had just said was going to be with him for quite some time, being mulled over in the back of his mind. He lifted his eyes to hers, "it was still your idea to perform the ritual. If you thought we meant nothing to eachother-"

"I never said that," Magenta interrupted, looking hurt, "it always meant something. You have always meant something."

"Why, then?"

She lowered her eyes to her lap, looking again like a child who had been caught doing something they ought not to. Her teeth troubled her bottom lip. Riff Raff silently willed her to continue.

"Something Columbia said was playing on my mind. I remembered seeing it in a tablet in father's library when I was very young. Then, one of the boys I used to... back home... he had tried to get me to do it with him. He didn't know the significance, he just saw it for its physical value, and when nothing happened..." she sighed, shaking her head, "Columbia hadn't meant anything by what she said. This was weeks ago now, but it just wouldn't leave me alone. I wanted to see if the myth was real, and if... well if she was right," she looked up at him, "and she was."

"But you're still ashamed of it," he said, bitterly.

Magenta stared at him, her eyes deeply serious for the first time in a long time, "no! Riff, how could I ever be ashamed of this, of us? I was scared. I felt things... when we touched... it was so intense. I was scared, that's all."

"You don't need to be scared of me."

Sighing, she reached up to cup his jaw, touching her finger tips across his lips, and then replacing them with her mouth. It was uncharacteristically gentle, and sweet, and he realised she meant every word that she'd just said. They stopped kissing, but her face remained near to his.

"I'm not," she whispered, tenderly stroking his cheek, "I love you."


	7. Chapter 7

After their so called "adventure", Riff Raff dropped all talk of the world outside their gated castle grounds altogether, and they never discussed what happened that night again. Eddie had come to retrieve them at six, as promised, and they had gone to bed for three blissful hours before Frank woke grumpy and wailing for Magenta to fetch him some breakfast.

They may not have discussed it, but that didn't stop Columbia from wanting a full, detailed review of the night's events, and even days later, after Magenta had explained that nothing happened, she still wouldn't let the subject drop. Ironically, she was very much like Riff in that sense.

"Awww c'mon you must have done _somethin'?_" Columbia whined, kicking her pyjama-clad legs over the edge of the bars of her bed, "I ain't gonna tell anyone. Who would I tell anyways?"

Rolling her eyes, Magenta crossed the room to fetch the small air-blowing contraption that Columbia kept in a drawer beside her bed, and she glared at the mousey haired girl before returning to her own bed, plugging the item in and switching it on. She waved it over her hair, glad when the noise of it drowned Columbia's continued whining out.

"Fine, ignore me, I don't care anyway!" she sulked, throwing her hands in the air dramatically. Magenta could just about hear her mumble under her breath, before she slid the switch on the side of the blower up, and the sound once again drowned her out.

After about ten minutes of this, Magenta switched it off and lobbed it onto a pile of clothes beside her bed, stretching out on top of her sheets like a cat. Columbia glared at her from her own bed. Unlike Magenta, she liked to keep things tidy, and her own laundry was pegged neatly along a piece of string which stretched across the ceiling of her side of the room. Magenta had laughed at her as she balanced on her bedside table, knocking a nail into the wall purely to hang the monstrosity from.

"You don't even know what that's for," Columbia said, glaring at the item Magenta had discarded.

"I don't care. I like how it feels," Magenta purred, snuggling into her bed. She did so wish that she had chosen to sleep in Riff's room tonight, since Columbia was in such a mood.

"It's a hair dryer. For drying hair."

Magenta ignored her.

"Your hair ain't even wet," Columbia muttered, tucking her legs back inside the bars and snuggling down under her duvet. She had a pout fixed to her lips, her eyebrows down in a firm frown. Her expressions were sometimes so exaggerated, they danced precariously on the line between hilarious and irritating.

Closing her eyes, Magenta breathed in deeply, her mind idly skipping through the events of that night for perhaps the third of fourth time that day. She was exhausted, but she couldn't help but find satisfaction in recounting it all. She and Riff would most certainly have to have a talk tomorrow.

"I know somethin' happened or you wouldn't be actin' like this," Columbia said after a moment.

Magenta opened her eyes long enough to glare at her, "go to sleep."

"Besides, you've had that big stupid grin on your face ever since! And Riff. Even he looks a little less sour than usual. Whatever it is, I'm gonna find out eventually anyways."

"Go to sleep," she forced out from between gritted teeth.

"I just don't understand why you wouldn't tell me, when I tell you everything about Eddie."

Magenta snapped, sitting bolt upright in her bed, before sliding out, stomping across the room, and leaving, without so much as saying a word to Columbia. She had one thought alone on her mind.

* * *

In the two weeks since, Magenta had slept in Riff's bedroom every night. It was quite fortunate, really, that Columbia had either been busy with Frank, or with Eddie. A couple of times she had asked if Magenta might like to go on an excursion with her, but she had turned her down both times. It seemed an obscure suggestion to her. Whilst she had – only very occasionally, and out of dire boredom, of course, and only a little curisoity – found herself peeking into Frank's chambers after Columbia had disappeared inside, she couldn't really understand what joy she could get from sneaking around, playing the awkward bystander to any of her activities with Eddie. It was one thing in the 'comfort' of your own 'home', when your brother was otherwise engaged, but quite another to go out with the sole purpose for it. And from what Magenta had seen of Earth, she had no desire to revisit it.

Besides, why would she pass up the opportunity for some alone time with Riff?

Ever since they performed the ritual for the first time, their relationship had certainly altered. Everything about it felt different, the intensity level rising. It wasn't as terrifying as Magenta had thought it might be. In fact, if anything, it was exhilarating. While her need for Riff was just as strong – if not stronger – than before, when they slept together it wasn't purely physical. Finally, Magenta understood what it meant to "make love" with somebody, a phrase that Columbia used often when describing her and Eddie's relationship. Sparks danced before her eyes every time, just like they had that night when they first touched elbows. If she hadn't been sure that night, then she certainly was now. She loved Riff with all her heart. He was the other half of her, and whenever they were apart, even just during the day while they got on with their separate tasks, she felt incomplete.

Since their connection, however, she had noticed other changes. Sometimes, as she was cleaning or cooking, or even skiving off with her feet up on the couch in the dusty library, she would suddenly get a weird feeling. Though she couldn't explain it any better than that, she instinctively knew what was causing it. It was almost like she could hear Riff thinking about her, though she could never make out words. This went on for a few days, and then, all of a sudden, she could hear exactly what he was thinking, like he was saying it aloud. It didn't always make perfect sense, but she heard it all the same. She was afraid to confront him about it, in case she was wrong, but then one night it came out all by itself.

"She is," Magenta said suddenly, as she kicked her shoes off, and slid her stockings down her long, bony legs.

"Who is what, my love?" Riff asked, clearly startled.

Blushing only ever so slightly, his sister sat down on the bed, unbuttoning her dress and avoiding looking at him, "Columbia, she's home. And rather angry that I chose to come here rather than keep her company. Well, perhaps not angry... more hurt. You know how she gets."

For a long moment, Riff Raff just stared at her, until she stopped what she was doing and met his gaze. He looked puzzled, but his lips were turned up in the tiniest of smiles.

"I did not ask whether Columbia was home," he said, as she continued to prepare for bed, now well  
aware of him watching her every move (not that this was unusual), "you answered a question I had not even asked yet."

"But you were going to ask, weren't you?" Magenta pulled her dress down slowly, before tossing it into the heap at the side of the bed. She stretched, running her hands through her hair. Riff watched her in silence, contemplating his answer.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Well then, what's the problem?" she smiled at him, crawling across the bed to where he was sitting, and kneeling behind him, draping herself over his shoulder

"How did you know I was going to ask?"

Magenta kissed his shoulder, and he instinctively lifted his head, allowing her access to his throat, letting out a soft noise as she bit him ever so gently. Her distraction tactics were working so well, until suddenly she heard her brother's voice crystal clear in her mind, and froze, stopping what she was doing to look at him properly. His lips twitched into a smirk, but he was not speaking.

"You did that on purpose," she hissed, pulling away from him.

"Did what, sister?" he asked, feigning innocence. Magenta crossed her arms, covering her bare stomach, and stared at him a while. He smiled again, thinly, "there, so you do hear me."

"You knew all along?"

Riff Raff shrugged, glancing over his shoulder at her, "I had an inkling, yes."

"You feel it too, don't you?" she asked, the pieces falling into place.

She shifted so she was sitting with her back flat against the wall, and he moved to sit beside her, their shoulders just barely touching. Unusually, she remained still, her arms crossed, and he lay a hand gently on her knee, hoping to evoke a response. Her eyes darted to look at the movement, but she remained stubborn, even if her face betrayed her.

"What do you think it means?" she asked, remaining still.

"I don't think it matters," Riff said casually, only expanding as he noticed her expression darken, "I mean, we have always been... _special_, Genta. The ritual only further proved that to me."

"You don't think we're... freaks?"

Riff laughed hollowly, "oh my dear sister, _of course_ we are. But not because of this. I was born a freak. To anyone outside of these walls, we will always be freaks. This just makes us special."

* * *

Since their escape, Frank had been working Riff harder than ever. If it weren't that he was not the type to keep his temper, Riff might have assumed Frank had figured them out, but he was fairly certain this couldn't be the case. After all, he didn't need a reason to enjoy watching him suffer. In the last few weeks, the prince's experiments had ranged from various dissections, to a tissue transplant on a dead animal he had scraped off the path up to the castle, with potions and poisons being mixed in between. Riff wasn't phased by animals, mostly as in Transsexual these species didn't exist, and he found their organs interesting enough, but he found the work tedious and unnecessary,

Then, one morning, instead of turning up with something furry in a box, Frank arrived with Columbia.

"Columbia, be a dear and jump up there will you," he asked her in the sickly sweet tone he generally reserved for his groupies. He gestured for the table which was dressed for their usual dissections.

"Master?" Riff asked, startled but trying to remain neutral, "why have you brought the earthling here?"

Frank flashed his bright white teeth at him in a menacing smile, which he held for several seconds, before announcing, "she's broken."

Columbia didn't even flinch.

"You fixed her before!" he said, rolling his eyes, "do it again! Just make it more... permanent this time, will you?"

Frank bent down to Columbia's level, as though she was a child, and cupped her face in his hands. He ran his finger over her lips and smiled, "now then, when I return, you're going to be behaving, aren't you?"

She stared up at him with wide eyes and then let out one of her infamously long laughs, high-pitched and ear-damagingly loud. Frank turned sharply on his heel, waving a hand in her direction, "fix... _that_ won't you, too?" and then he was gone.

Riff Raff grumbled under his breath, making a point of rearranging his papers on his desk while Columbia continued to squirm, the constant moving of her little legs visible out of the corner of his eye. Finally, he put his files down and moved toward her. Frank was right. He'd done this before, he could do it again. And it wasn't as though he _liked_ the girl. Then again, Magenta was certainly fond of her and-

Magenta. As soon as his mind turned to her, he felt the hairs on his neck stand up and his brain go into overdrive. Of course. The connection between them, which neither of them had any control over yet. He cleared his throat, as if somehow doing that would break the link, but it didn't. As was rare for her, Magenta was cleaning, her mind filled with what needed polishing or dusting or sweeping next. Riff fought to withdraw from it, focussing his attentions on Columbia.

"You and Mags sure are acting funky lately," she commented as Riff looked through an assortment of glass bottles beside her, killing time. He looked up and wrinkled his nose at the nickname the child had come to call his sister by. Magenta hated it. He turned back to his potions. Perhaps he could find one that wouldn't do her any harm, just keep her quiet enough that Frank was fooled into believing he'd tried.

"_Funky?_" he enquired, after a moment's thought.

"Sure, y'know... jittery... odd... not like yourselves. Somethin's happened."

"Magenta has told you this?"

Columbia huffed, "Magenta ain't told me nothin'. And not through my lack of tryin' I can tell you. No one ever wants to share their secrets with me."

Riff Raff couldn't help but smile. Of course Magenta hadn't told her anything, but Columbia continued to ask too many questions, a trait he knew frustrated his sister, and had drawn her to his bed more and more lately. She trusted Columbia, but he didn't. Who could say what she told Frank when they were alone together? It pleased him that, even on some level, Magenta shared this feeling, if only enough to prevent answering the incessant questioning.

"You ain't gonna tell me either," Columbia finally said, casting her eyes down at the floor.

"Why does the master refer to you as 'broken'?"

"I dunno," she said stubbornly.

Turning away from her, and his rack of potions, he snatched a pair of gloves from a drawer and slid them on, "very well, I'll get on with fixing you, then."

"Wait!"

Riff turned back to her expectantly, and she sighed, her whole body seeming to deflate like a punctured balloon. Even the motion in her legs stalled.

"Go on..." he urged.

She looked up at him from beneath heavy eyelashes, her lips forming a perfect pout, and he was so overcome by how similar her expression was to Magenta's for a second that he had to move away. He cleared his throat again. Fortunately, his sister managed not to invade his thoughts this time and when he turned back, Columbia was staring at her shoes.

"Well," he pressed, impatiently.

"I told Frankie I wanna leave," she said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

_Is that all? _He thought, his brows furrowing. Magenta told their master she wanted to leave practically every other day. So what if Columbia didn't want to stay with Frank anymore? He could throw her out and pluck another willing candidate off the street the very same day. He had done it before, what was stopping him now? Surely he hadn't actually become attached to her? It seemed completely outside the realms of possibility. Then, a thought crept in at the back of his mind and his eyes widened, his pulse racing a little.

"You didn't tell him about Eddie?"

Columbia looked up, "oh, I wanted to, but he didn't give me the chance! If you mean did I drop you and Mags in it then no. You're safe. I'm actually pretty good at keeping secrets not that anyone ever gives me the chance to..."

Ignoring her last remark, Riff reviewed the situation. It seemed pretty simple – Frank wanted him to dose her up, brain wash her again, turn her back into the opinion-less groupie she'd been when she was first let out of the laboratory. She would stay, Frank would get his bedroom entertainment free from arguing, and Riff Raff wouldn't get a whipping, for today at last. He and Magenta would certainly benefit from having some time to themselves. He had managed to do it before, without his conscience making any kind of plea against him so why was this such a problem now?

"You don't like it here?" he asked, contemplating.

"Nothin' personal against either of you. I've loved sharing a room, having friends, but I don't have fun with Frankie anymore. Eddie wants me to be with him..." she trailed off, "it's difficult to explain to him y'know? Things here ain't exactly normal."

"You know Frank isn't going to just let you leave?"

Columbia nodded her head miserably, her shiny aburun hair, newly dyed by his sister, bobbing about furiously. No matter how much he didn't like her, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Perhaps he wasn't entirely cold-hearted after all.

"I have a plan," he said, after a moment, watching Columbia's eyes light up, "listen carefully..." 


End file.
